


Yellow

by StarGzer



Category: Lancer (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:55:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26701783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarGzer/pseuds/StarGzer
Summary: A short vignette on Scott's growing pains in those early days on the ranch.
Kudos: 8





	Yellow

Johnny palmed his cup of coffee and leaned against the corral fence, drinking slowly. He listened to Scott tossing his gear around inside the barn with the kind of anger that made light work of heavy things. Johnny wasn't done with him yet, but he didn't want to go at it when they were both a flea's dick away from boiling over.

Seemed like a quick way to end up slugging it out by the river again.

So he drank his coffee and stared into the oncoming twilight surrounding the hacienda.

_The hacienda._

First one he'd lived in since he was kid. It was kind of strange, the way he needed it, but at the same time understanding why Scott did too, for all the big house back in Boston. The same way he could curl his mind to both Scott's quick, burning anger and Murdoch's dogged, uncompromising dedication to the ranch and land.

He walked to the door and saw Scott ball up his new yellow gloves and push his bare fingers through the cuts in the horsehair cinch, the stabbed holes in his saddlebags. When Scott finished and proceeded to throw the whole shebang into a pile at his feet, Johnny shook his head and spoke up.

"You and Murdoch gotta sort this shit out, Scott. If he knew what was going on…"

"He'd do what, Johnny? Wonder why his son wasn't up to the task? Reprimand the men somehow? Fire them?" Yellow gloves hit the cinch in the pile. "That would be just the answer, wouldn't it?"

He had a feeling there wasn't a right answer so he kept his mouth shut. For a little while anyway. "Scott, at least pull those gloves out. Please." Somehow they had been the tipping point. The only ones able to fit his brother's big hands, a joke had circulated among the boys. A joke gone bad.

Scott stopped, whirled around. "You know what I can't wait for?"

Johnny wasn't sure he wanted to know. He was trying to remember if Scott had brought his pistol out with him, or if it was stored on the hook in the hallway, like usual. He didn't think Scott should be around any guns tonight.

"What's that?"

"I can't wait until I succeed, which I _will_ , even though I never seem to have an intact cinch, or a horse broken enough to ride, or a cup of coffee without sand in it. And I refuse to be called a coward simply because my damned gloves are colored yellow."

Johnny rubbed his mouth, cocked his head and grimaced. Those men who made the jokes hadn't been at Lancer for the battle with Pardee. Hadn't seen how Scott stepped into the firing without so much as a quiver. No coward, his brother. Yellow gloves or not. "Okay, so you're still a little angry."

"What am I supposed to do, Johnny? I won't go to Murdoch."

Johnny had to purse his lips against the sudden tightness at the back of his throat. This wasn't just anger. He knew that. This was deeper, sneakier. The kind of resentment that had been steeped over the years.

_You feeling sorry for yourself? Think you're the only one that's ever been tested?_ He'd been going to throw that at him. Use it to pull him back. 

But standing there in the doorway he couldn't. He just wanted to fix it. To shore up that angry rise in his brother, and make the la familia _triangle_ work. A small, quiet voice inside him was calling him a fool. Knew a border had been crossed.

This was new territory. His real brother had been hiding all along in starched shirts, plaid pants and fancy manners. It made him a little sick to think at one time, he paired Scott up alongside all the other worthless easterners he knew.

He sent the dregs of his coffee flying into the dirt with a flick of his wrist and set the cup down. He reached over and picked up his own saddle from the tree, hefted it into Scott's open arms.

"So go. Take Barranca."

Scott stared dumbly at the saddle. "What?"

"Go to town. Take your gloves out of that heap, then get out of here."

Scott shook his head. "Are you mad?" He looked around at the mess by his boots. "We have the creek bed to dredge tomorrow. And the pasture fence to fix. The branding. Did you not see Murdoch's list?"

Johnny gave the barn a hesitant, sweeping gaze. "I saw it."

Scott's eyes narrowed. "I thought you were going to see Mandy."

Johnny scrubbed a hand up and down the back of his head. Mandy had light brown hair and curves in just the right places. "So I'll see her another day."

"And Murdoch?"

"What about him? I'll handle the old man. Fill up his glass with that good whiskey and let him ramble on about the old days."

Scott shifted the weight in his arms, thinking. Johnny grabbed his elbow.

"There's a game tonight at The Gem. I hear a couple of Lancer cowboys are going to be there. Do us proud, brother. Okay?"

Scott finally gave him a lopsided smile, and Johnny let him go, flattening against the stall wall to let him pass.

Johnny waited until he heard Scott's low murmuring to Barranca, the creak of saddle leather and sharp hooves striking the hardscrabble ground, moving away. The debris of his brother's frustration lay on the hay-strewn barn floor. He sighed, hands on hips.

Then he leaned over to pick up the yellow gloves, stuffing them into his back pocket.

The End


End file.
